Helter Skelter
by teanotes
Summary: In hindsight, a road trip with your step-brother and his best friends in Gansey's dying Pig is not an ideal way to start summer break. AU.


a/n: edited aug 26, 2014 - i posted this on my ao3 account (changer) and only brushed it off

this au consists of blue and ronan being step-siblings since the beginning, a not-dead noah, a teenage dirtbag aka whelk, and sweeties still sweet even in another universe

* * *

_Helter Skelter_

* * *

If not expectantly, Blue is uncomfortable. The back of her thighs stick to the leather of the seat every time she shifts to adjust the seat-belt digging up her side. Even with her hair up in its usual tail, she can still feel beads of sweat beginning to form at the nape of her neck. Her once-clever decision to wear shorts and a tank failed to prevail positively against the humid weather.

About an hour ago, the Camaro's air conditioning system officially broke down. Not moments later, Blue casually wonders if anyone would care much if she bashes the dashboard in with a baseball bat. She voices her thoughts only to be shut down inconclusively. There are laws about vandalizing a Congresswoman's kids's ride, as much as everyone—minus said Congresswoman's kid—wants to admit in wishing to do so.

"I'm going to _die_ in this car," Blue groans, half-heartedly fanning her face with a hand. "I haven't even written a will yet."

"Don't be dramatic," Ronan-the-Ever-Considerate-Step-Brother berates from the passenger seat in the front.

To her right, Noah Czerny pats her head in comfort. To her left, Adam Parrish's closed eyelids flutter lightly in sympathy.

All the windows are open in vain, and it's a joke that they've left Henrietta, Virginia instead of Las Vegas, Nevada. The scenery, at least, is bearable in the way that they don't quite face a barren, dry wasteland, but the pretty green grasslands leftover from spring. Rays from the sun beat down on everything in sight, and sometimes it's so bright that it reflects on the concrete road. Gansey's driving isn't fast so it's easy enough for Blue's eyes to catch every stray flower growing in some wrong patches of earth every now and then. The inconstant smells of wild bermuda grass is lovely, too, ignoring the gasoline and mint ever-present in the car.

A squeak is heard when Blue leans forward in her seat, reminding her of her thighs-to-leather predicament.

"When's the next stop?" she asks eagerly. Eager to get out of this death vehicle.

Gansey, wearing a blindingly white polo, has one hand on the wheel and another holding his phone to his ear. He nods a few times as he listens to the other end. If it were another time, Blue would scold him for driving and using the phone at the same time. There are no other cars around.

"Yes, she's here," he says politely to the phone instead of Blue. "Would you like to speak with her?"

Blue exchanges a glance with Noah, who ducks his head low and shrugs in response.

She turns again towards the front and is assaulted with a face-full of cell phone. It says the call's lasted for 1 minute and 33 seconds in counting, and she barely reads the first few letters of the name before it registers. Her hand grabs the phone out of Gansey's outstretched one and she smacks the speaker button.

"Hey, Declan!" Blue greets jovially over Ronan's eye roll and Adam's fake snores.

"_Blue_." Declan's first syllable drawl settles through the car in a heartbeat. "Why is it that you and Ronan still never answer your phones no matter how often I call?"

Blue bats her lashes even though she knows he can't see. "Ronan says phones deteriorate our brains through radiation and I say I lost mine two gas stations back."

There's a staticky crinkle coming through and it's obvious Declan is sighing.

"Something wrong, Declan?" she asks innocently. Noah is smiling at the few trees passing by and Adam still hasn't pretend woken up from his pretend nap yet, but he is smiling, too.

"Why didn't you tell me you were gallivanting off to the other side of the country?" he retaliates. This was rather accusing of him, seeing as they were not going to the other side of the country, but at most Indiana. Tops. They hadn't planned it out to the detail because Noah and Blue had jumped in the back of the Pig as soon as Gansey mentioned the word _beach_ and something about room service.

"Don't be dramatic, Declan," she echoes Ronan's previous words. "You know, we're still in Virginia. And we're not gallivanting. It's called a _road trip_."

"I understand that portion," he plows on. "but what of _sleeping arrangements?_"

"Sleeping arrangements?"

It looks like Adam is awake now, scratching the corner of his lips to block his silent laughter, shoulders shaking. Noah isn't any better, bringing the collar of his sweater to cover half his face.

"Didn't Gansey tell you we stop at motels? It's not like we're bunking on the streets."

Gansey is supposed to be fixated on the road, but occasionally he looks up at his frontal mirrors to lock eyes with Blue. He's on the verge of laughing, too.

Blue is not sure she's getting it, so she waits for Declan to expound.

"They're all boys, Blue," Declan says with a finite sense of seriousness. "What did you think might happen during trips like these?"

She hates when he acts so condescending—as if she is too little and dumb to understand anything. It's less worse over the phone because she doesn't have to see the face that came with it, but it still hurt.

"I'm not getting in the way of testosterone bonding, if that's what you're implying," she says heatedly.

"_That_," Declan replies dryly. "is not what I'm implying."

Something in his voice brushes off a gear in her head, and it's a moment before she gets it.

_"Jesus Almighty,"_ Blue gasps, glaring at Noah and Adam as they wheeze out guffaws. "I'm not—_Declan!_ God, it's not like I came on this trip to _get it on_ with all of Ronan's boy toys. They don't think of me like—_UGH!_"

"Better not," Ronan growls. Gansey barks a laugh that's so vibrant Blue almost laughs along with him before catching herself.

"I trust you, Blue. It's them I don't." Declan tears through the laughter that just doubled sevenfold. "Anyway, I called Gansey to say to you that Matthew wanted to tell you that there's a code red, or something. What the hell does that mean?"

She is still until her eyes turn as big as saucers. "Code red? Oh my _God_."

Ronan peers curiously at her through the side mirror. "What?"

"That's what I told Matthew to tell me if he thinks Mom's dating someone."

"Maura's _dating_ someone?" Ronan asks, like he's just discovered his fingers touched chewing gum on the bottom of a school desk.

"Get him on the phone!" Blue commands.

Declan grumbles something unintelligible and a second passes before the soft, charming giggle of Matthew Lynch enters the stage.

"Hi, Blue," says Matthew sweetly.

"Matty," Blue exclaims. "Is it true? Who is he?"

"Yeah, uh, I don't know his name, but he wears a lot of gray and Calla and Persephone like him. I saw him and Maura _glance_ at each other, Blue! You know, _glance_. Isn't that so damn awesome?"

"Don't cuss," Blue, Ronan, and a backdrop of Declan tells him, although Ronan adds a few more cuss words into his reprimand to get the point across.

After this, Blue charges with energy. "They glanced? You sure? When did this happen? Where's he from? What does he do?"

"Yes, yes, Saturday, I have no idea, and I'm pretty sure he's a hitman," came the happy answer.

_"Hitman?"_ Gansey asks, frowning. He's still staring at the road, but he's also been listening to the entire conversation. "I don't think that's a legitimate profession."

"Gansey doesn't think that's a legitimate profession," reiterates Blue.

"Well, he comes off really James Bond-y, you know?" Matthew explains. "Oh, I gotta go. Maura's yelling at me from downstairs to stop gossiping about her. Plus, the girls fought earlier and now they're doing the pie-butter-bacon thing again. Why do they always do the pie-butter-bacon thing? See you, Blue. Tell Ronan I said hi!"

The phone beeps to an end and Blue is left unsatisfied with Gansey's phone tucked between her legs and flushed cheeks from all the activity.

"Pie-butter-bacon thing?" Adam questions, tugging at the hem of his Coca-Cola T as if the heat only started to bother him now.

"Yeah," Blue says, handing Gansey his phone back, which he drops into the empty cup holder. "It's infamous."

They reach their destination by sundown, and the orange sky leaps out beneath fluffy clouds to contrast between the lone scatter of buildings secluded from any other form of civilization. Blue coos in false delight, scooting closer to Adam's side to get a better view. Their knees knock slightly, hers bare and his jean-clad, and Adam sends her a discreet grin she can't help returning. Gansey coughs loudly.

"We're here," announces Noah before Gansey has the opportunity to say something everyone will regret.

"Here" turns out to be a ratty-looking motel with turquoise paint chipping off its walls and a neon sign reading TREATY'S PALACE broken so that it reads RAT'S PLACE. Clinging vines run as overgrowth along the edges, and the multiple wooden doors leading to rooms appear poor with misuse.

"Ah, shit," says Ronan eloquently.

"Should Blue still worry about _sleeping_ arrangements?" asks Noah.

Then Adam tells him, "Shut up, Noah."

Gansey clears his throat. "Won't this be an experience?"

"Shut up, Dick," says Blue.

* * *

"We only got two rooms 'vailable, sir."

At the front desk, Gansey tries to persuade a lady in a pink velvet tracksuit to rent five separate rooms, and he looks a bit panicked because his golden voice has never failed him so miserably before.

"Please, ma'am," he practically begs, but not really, because he's Richard Campbell Gansey III, and Ganseys don't beg. "If this is about monetary concerns, I can tell you now we're able to pay in full—"

"I told you, kid," Lady Tracksuit interrupts. "We're full 'cept for two."

Adam crosses his arms behind Gansey and gives Blue a look, like "Can you believe this place is actually booked?". Blue wants to agree. All of the plants in the waiting room are fake, most of the floor is a stained shag carpet, and it smells like burnt pancakes. It feels like no one's been here since 1971.

"Just take the rooms," orders Ronan. "I want to sleep."

Blue nudges him with her elbow and he nudges back harder.

At the moment, she is actually scanning the vicinity for Noah. He had announced the moment they entered the place that he needed to use the restroom and scurried away, but half an hour later, he was no where to be found. Noah always faded away into the background, bound to get lost, and Blue felt responsible.

"Where do you think Noah is?" she wonders aloud for the fifth time.

"No idea," Ronan answers stoically for the fifth time.

It's a predictable dialogue from then on.

"We should look for him," she would suggest.

"You do it," he'd reply.

She'd look around, straining her neck behind a plastic ficus. "This place is sketchy."

"Your face is sketchy."

And then the conversation would stop until Blue's worrying of Noah bubbles up again, and the cycle continues.

"Fine." Gansey sighs in complete defeat as Lady Tracksuit pops her green bubblegum. "We'll take two rooms."

Nodding because it's clear she's won this battle, the older woman taps her painted nails on the counter before reading something off the dinosaur computer in front of her. Her smudgy, lipstick-stained mouth quirks down to a frown in disappointment, or maybe in disgust.

"Sorry. Now there's only one room."

Blue can imagine Gansey's veins throbbing. His arms have gone limp, his smile decidedly vanishing. He asks, scarily polite, "_One_ room?"

"While yous were takin' your damn time, someone booked the other room. Too bad, kiddos," Tracksuit Lady confesses in her ambiguous accent.

"How?" Gansey says. He means, however, _How can this great misdeed happen to _me_, Richard Campbell Gansey III, on a beautiful summer day like this?_

"Through our website," Queen of Tracksuits, Green Gum and Misfortune says obviously. She turns the dusty monitor screen for them to see.

"Your website," repeats Gansey.

"I think he's gone catatonic," Blue observes.

Adam smiles sheepishly at Lady Trackgumfortune. "We'd still like to take the one room. Is that alright?"

"That's more than alright, Honey Bunches." She types in a few things on the keyboard before ducking underneath the counter and popping up with a bronze key. The number "101" is embossed on the top, though it's questionable whether there currently are a hundred rooms, or if it's a random number to appear legitimate. "Have fun in your stay at Treaty's Palace! But not too much fun!" And then the lady threw back her head and laughed gleefully.

Absentmindedly, Adam takes the key without a word and drags Gansey outside by his arm when it's apparent Gansey wouldn't budge by himself.

"C'mon, Honey Bunches," he says to the general audience, opening the dirty glass door. "We have a room."

Then Blue remembers. _"Noah!"_

* * *

The room contains a love seat, some side tables, a bulging lamp stand, and a kingsized bed with red seams tying 70's design patterns together. There's a few other plastic plants littered around, only now blessed with cloth flowers, as if it made it any less demeaning. The walls are a tacky yellowy beige that resembles tapioca.

"How marvy," Gansey comments, setting down their few, various luggage bags behind the pinstripe couch.

Raiding a side table's drawer, Blue says, "Keep your marvy to yourself."

Ronan has clocked out on the love seat, leaving no where to sit but the bed and the shag carpet-covered floor. Adam takes the bed and sits as methodically as one could applesauce-styled.

At 10:34 pm, Declan Lynch calls Gansey's cell once again. It vibrates along with some weird foreign pop song and Blue digs through his bags to answer in his stead. The conversation ends at 10:35, going a little like this:

B: Hello?  
D: Blue, are you sleeping? What are you doing?  
B: Oh, you know. Sex. Drugs. Alcohol. The usual.  
D: Blue.  
B: Not necessarily in that order.  
D: Blue.  
B: We're waiting for the drugs to come in. There it is!  
D: Blue!  
B: Declan!  
D: I'll call back tomorrow.  
B: I'll be sure to drop Gansey's phone in the toilet by then.  
D: Blue.  
B: Love you, Declan!

They stay like that for a while, dawdling mindlessly around the room. Not fully unpacking doesn't stop Adam from finding all the bubble wrap that Gansey had stuffed inside for all his electronics, and he and Gansey fight naturally over it—in the most manly way possible, they defend. Blue manages to seal the deal for using the bathroom first, only to retreat embarrassedly with a towel wrapped around her torso and her hair semi-soapy because there was no way she was showering with six large cockroaches the size of Pokémon on the corner tiles. Luckily, Gansey and Adam only stare at her for a fraction of a second before Blue peers back inside the bathroom again with a shoe in one hand and a death wish in the other.

The room settles when they all gather on the bed and take out Ronan's deck of cards. Almost immediately, they clash on game suggestions. Favorably, Blue doesn't know any card related-games sans psychic ones but insists upon the matching game. Unfavorably, Gansey and Adam decline.

The door bangs twice, loud, and Ronan finally starts from the noise with a proper swear.

Adam, closest, marches toward the door and wrenches it open. It creaks against the shaggy carpeting, and then there is Noah.

He is red-faced and sad-looking, a combination usually and not usually found on his face. In his hands, he procures a wine bottle the length of Blue's hair.

"Noah, dude," begins Adam, reaching for Noah's shoulder to grasp. "Where've you been?"

"You bought alcohol?" asks Ronan, rubbing his eyes.

"Schnapps," Noah corrects grimly. "A present."

"Present?" Gansey says incredulously. He unintentionally knocks down the neat stack of cards and Blue punches his side. "From who?"

Now Noah looks ashamed. "Whelk."

Because Blue is preoccupied with re-stacking the deck of cards, she doesn't catch the room tensing at the name.

"Who's that?" she asks offhandedly, putting an ace over a three of hearts.

"He goes to school with us," Gansey answers, kind of bitterly. _"Barrington Whelk."_

Her nose crinkles. "That's an unfortunate name."

"He's an unfortunate guy," adds Adam unkindly.

"What the hell's _he _doing here?" Ronan demands, pouncing from the couch.

Noah squirms at the interrogating stares from his friends and unconsciously rubs the schnapps bottle. "He saw the Pig heading in this direction, I guess. Bought all available rooms except this one to mess with us—" Gansey is visibly affronted. "—and told me he wanted to show me something. He said I should come with him somewhere."

"Somewhere?"

"Why's he this far out from Henrietta in the first place? I highly doubt he's road tripping with friends."

"It's about ley lines," Noah replies, sadder than usual. Blue doesn't know what's going on. She doesn't know who Whelk is, or what ley lines are, but she knows she hates seeing him like this. "He's still on about them even after—even after now. I think he thinks this place is near one."

"You said no," Ronan growls, and Blue wonders at her step-brother's hostility. "You didn't go with him, did you?"

Slowly, Noah nods. "I said I'd only go if we all go."

Adam groans into his palms. Gansey gazes solemnly at the pinstripe couch.

"What does he want to show you?" Blue asks as she shuffles back the cards into its case. She stands and crosses her arms atop her cotton pajama shirt.

"I didn't ask."

All of a sudden, Noah seems very small. Blue starts toward him and reaches for his hand. He is cold; colder than usual.

It is Gansey who makes the decision and, always and forever, the boys agree because they will follow him to the ends of the earth if they are able. It is something Blue can understand, but never be a part of.

"We'll talk to Whelk."

* * *

Blue is the last to come down to the sitting room where Gansey sparred words with Tracksuit Lady, now curiously absent, and meet everyone, where they stood—high tensions—near the glass exit.

At first glance, Barrington Whelk does not look any devious as the boys make him seem. He comes off as positively normal, albeit the Aligonby boy-finesse that all the boys carry, and is pleasant-looking, with his crisp oxford button-up and black slacks.

But the thing is, Blue has had too many public jobs where she can now identify when a boy looks at her the dirty kind of way that makes her feel a little dirty in reaction.

"How adorable." He grins maliciously at her, hands in his pockets, eyes gleaming.

"I am _not_—"

"Just move, Whelk," says Gansey sharply, since the others caught his look at Blue and now seemed the right kind of furious.

"Before we change our minds and beat you to a pulp," Ronan grits out, and there's a shadow of a shark descending on his lips.

Without looking back and leaving Blue inwardly sighing in relief, Whelk leads them to a clearing near a mile behind Treaty's Palace, where trees cover much of the town and blocks sound from the highway.

The sun had set hours ago, making it easier to appreciate the clarity of the stars against the blackness of the sky. It would be a lie if Blue says she doesn't like it.

Whelk presents a lake; a large one. About a quarter half a football field in diameter, it stretches to the side where it's too dark to see further. The water itself looks inexplicably deep.

And it's frozen.

Adam and Ronan share looks of hidden disbelief, Noah blinks twice, and Gansey remains constant.

"How...?" The question dies from Blue's tongue. Wind blows hard against her legs and arms, but it's nighttime summer kind you could still identify as such. It's still mid-June, isn't it? she thinks.

Whelk, encouraged by what he thinks is their awe, walks toward the ice with flair.

"I told you," he says reverently, "this area lies on a ley line. There are different kinds all over the world, and it just so happens this particular spot has one so strong."

"I know of ley lines," Gansey interrupts. Only because he knows of everything. "But this is what they do?"

"Freeze stuff?" Adam offers. Shadowing him, Noah closes his eyes and discreetly shakes his head. He knows what Whelk's talking about.

Blue vaguely remembers times before he hung out with Ronan and the boys, but now she is forced to acknowledge there was definitely a time where her Raven Boys were not hers.

Whelk grunts nonchalantly. "Not necessarily. Mostly, it warps things."

His words drip enigma, and Blue decides she does not like the way he speaks. Sarcastic, amused, and absurdly calm.

They all watch him experimentally tap the ice with the tip of his slick dress shoe, making it apparent the ice was thick enough to walk on. He gestures to them. The smile he has on is caked with certainty.

"Come on," Barrington Whelk goads.

Glancing at his feet, Blue has to ask. "Is it safe?"

"Safe as life." The reply comes easily, his eyes glittering from the light of the moon.

No one moves.

She doesn't really think, but Blue's body does the thinking for her. Stepping towards the ice, ignoring Ronan's muttering of her name and Barrington Whelk's amused grin, Blue slowly toddles about seven feet from where the rest of the boys are before she stops idly.

She's wearing beach sandals, and it amazes her once again that it's ice—white to the point where she can't see her reflection. A frozen lake in summer. There was something awfully romantic about the whole concept, something magical, and Blue cracks a smile.

"This is amazing," she laughs, spinning a little as she takes another step inward the center of the lake.

"Get back here, Blue," warns Ronan, whose rough voice sounds grittier the further she's away.

Shaking her head, Blue says, "Get your butts over here! I don't want to be alone."

"You heard the lady," tells Whelk.

"Only 'cause I don't want to have to look at your face anymore," says Adam to Whelk before he skitters a few feet onto the ice.

_"Shit!_" he says, trying to balance after almost tripping over.

Blue opens her arms wide in their direction. "Ronnie! Dick! Noah!"

Ronan throws an annoyed glance at Whelk then rolls his eyes at Blue before stomping dangerously on the lake towards her.

"Jane," Gansey calls, but she can't hear anymore because Blue's slipping away from Ronan's approaching figure, tossing taunts and sticking her tongue out as she tries to run.

The first sign of the cracking ice is the sound; it's a short, loud pop that could've been anything else, except it just has to be—that one and only thing.

"Jane!"

What comes next is the slight rumbling that's hard to feel unless you've got pink beach sandals above the cracks.

_"Blue!"_

Frantically, Blue looks around in a panic. She had gone too far away from anyone to go to them, and she can't focus on their faces when she already knows what's going to happen next.

When she hits the water, she wonders idly if she's died. Milliseconds of numbness pass and now she's underwater, prying her eyes open only to see blackness. The cold seems to be a figment of imagination, because her brain knows it's _supposed_ to be cold but the rest of her body's having a hard time catching up.

For some reason, she quickly recalls memories when she was younger, a _lot_ younger, before Ronan met Gansey and before Declan grew up and before Matthew got too popular for family night. Before Niall was murdered.

She thinks of the time after their parents had newly married when Ronan had purposely stuck gum in her hair because he didn't like "the look of her face". The time she first kicked Ronan because it was the way Niall taught her how to. The time she forced baby Matthew into a dress and tried teaching him the extremities of gender roles in America over a Caprisun-replaced-tea party. The time after Niall's funeral when Declan taught Matthew and her about the stars in order to stop them from crying.

Maybe she really is dead. She could just close her eyes and wait for the inevitable. It seems terribly easy.

Then, like a shock of lightning, Blue remembers Gansey, Adam, Noah, Ronan—_her brave, brave boys—_and she springs into action, stroking her arms towards the surface.

She thinks she's made it until her hands meet ice and realizes she's lost the hole she fell through. Blue works around, trying to feel for it, but fails.

And that's all. Blue feels so tired, and she may be good at swimming, but she can't hold her breathe very long. She really was going to die.

It might be wishful thinking, but before she blacks out, all that fills Blue's vision is Gansey's concerned face nearing hers.

* * *

Before she opens her eyes, Blue coughs. There's water down her throat, and probably in her lungs, but the fact that she's alive registers as a jackpot.

"Blue?"

Her head's too fuzzy at first to distinguish between voices, but she coerces herself to open her eyes.

She sees a head, then she feels the cold.

"C-cold," Blue coughs out. It is not as intelligent as she wants to sound, but it would do. She needs familiarity. "Ronan?"

It's not the first voice that answers because it is further, but she can pick out his voice a hundred miles away and know the difference.

"I'm here."

Blue breathes a shaky laugh. "Rem—remember when we went to L-Long Island? Matty had to stay with Mom at the hotel 'cause he had that—that rash..."

"Shut up, Blue," Ronan tells her, coming into her line of view. He looks red and puffy, but mostly like normal Ronan. "Don't talk."

"Niall taught me how to swim," she says, shivering. Is she lying down? "You made fun of me f-for not knowing how to swim."

Ronan just looks at her. "I'm sorry."

Blue shakes her head, teeth chattering. "I didn't want to swim out in the sea. I was so scare—scared."

Someone is holding her hand, but she has no time to deduce who it is because a scuffling breaks out from behind—above?—her. The sound of a loud smack brings Blue back to reality.

_"You knew!"_ cries the voice of Noah Czerny.

Blue sits up—she was laying before—just in time to catch Noah give another good punch to Whelk, now nursing his cheek. His nose bleeds an ugly red.

_"You did this on purpose!"_

It scared Blue to see Noah like this, because Blue expects this from Ronan—_Gansey_, even—but never Noah.

"You wanted to see what would happen if we went on the ice because you were too _coward_ to do it yourself," Noah bristles, glaring daggers at Whelk, who he holds by his collar. Only anger engulfs him. "If Gansey hadn't jumped in after her, Blue wouldn't just be _dead_, would she? Her body would pop up somewhere in _goddamn China_ or be sent back to the _fucking eighties,_ wouldn't it?"

Trying hard not to flinch at his words, Blue steadies herself erect and is suddenly held up by Adam, quivering arms tight around her. She doesn't feel very weak, not when everyone is like this. She's also still very cold and notices a jacket around her, which doesn't help much, but she appreciates the sentiment.

"I didn't know," Whelk says, shocking Blue with how confident he sounds.

Noah's voice lowers an octave. "You _didn't know?"_

"Noah," Gansey says, stepping in, his hand resting on his shoulder.

As if Gansey clicks the pause with his words, everyone freezes as they are, with Noah still holding up Whelk and Adam holding Blue up.

Letting him go, Noah's expression does a total one-eighty and sees Blue, his face sad and curious.

"Are you okay, Blue?" he asks her, as if he hadn't just decked a six-foot young adult and left him bleeding profusely just a second ago.

The only thing Blue can offer is a nod.

"I think you should go," Gansey addresses Whelk, although this is no suggestion.

Whelk shrugs, unaffected. Blue begins to understand that this is just how he is.

Just as he easily as he came, no one cares as he leaves. By the time his body is indistinguishable from the trees, it's only Blue who watches. She wants to make sure he _stays _away.

"Can we just sleep now?" Blue asks tiredly.

Underneath all the stars with names Blue can't remember clear enough at the moment, her boys all look very amazing and significant. It's how they always look together.

Gansey smiles, Ronan looks uninterested, Adam hugs her closer, Noah chuckles at the ground, and Blue relishes in being alive.

"About sleeping arrangements," says Blue quietly, teeth chattering. "You all don't mind if we share the bed tonight?"

* * *

3 MISSED CALL(S) – Declan Lynch

2 UNHEARD VOICEMAIL(S)

Voicemail One, at 11:40 PM: "Gansey? Blue? Have you all finally gone to sleep? I still need to know where your destination is and how you're getting there. I never truly understood the appeal of roadtrips. Only take public roads where there's signs of safe human interaction; no shady shortcuts and—Matthew! _Stop _that! I'm leaving a message—"

Voicemail Two, at 11:42 PM: "It's Matthew! I just stole Declan's phone. Okay, so, Maura just came home from her date with the hitman—_of course he's a hitman, Declan!_—and she's glowing. Glowing Blue! She looks so happy. Hey, you guys are coming home soon, right? I miss you. So does Declan, no matter how prissy he's being—_yes_, you're prissy. See you guys soon, okay?"


End file.
